


Nightmares

by arihime



Series: Nerelyn Surana [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7333015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arihime/pseuds/arihime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once, it isn’t Surana who has a nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

Surana awakens in the middle of the night.

That isn’t really uncommon. She’s used to being jolted from Fade dreams at odd hours. What is uncommon is that she wakes up cold, without Zevran’s warmth beside her.

She sits up, pulling the blanket to her chest on reflex, and looks to his side of the tent. He lies at the edge of the bedroll, curled up into a ball. His eyes are clenched shut, and there is sweat on his brow.

_A nightmare,_ Surana thinks, recognizing the look. Normally, she’s the one to get them, from demons and tainted dreams alike. Zevran is the one who manages to sleep peacefully, and who comforts her when they become too much.

Now, it’s her turn to comfort him.

Surana calls him name quietly, but he doesn’t seem to hear her. 

“Zevran.” She tries again, scooting over until she can touch his arm. “It’s alright. You’re dreaming—”

The moment her hand makes contact with his skin, his eyes fly open. He lunges at her, and Surana is flat on her back before she can really process what happened. Zevran sits on top of her, completely pining her to the ground, his forearm hard against her shoulders.

She can feel the chill of metal on her throat. A dagger.

Surana stills completely, forcing her breath to calm. Though Zevran’s eyes are open, he doesn’t see her, still trapped in his nightmare. The dagger presses harder into her neck, enough to draw blood.

“Zevran,” she whispers.

Now he hears her. He freezes, every line of his body growing tense. The glaze leaves his eyes, and they widen in horror as he takes in the scene before him.

Zevran throws the dagger away and scrambles off her. He doesn’t stop moving until his back hits one of the tent posts. His forehead drops into his hands, and he heaves a great, shuddering breath.

When he finally looks at her, she sees that the horror in his eyes has morphed into pain. When he speaks, his voice trembles. “ _Cara._ Forgive me. I—”

“It’s fine.” Surana says, sitting up and wiping the blood from her throat. “You had a nightmare; you didn’t mean it.” She goes to him and tries to put a hand on his shoulder, but he flinches away from her.

His gaze flickers to her throat.

“I—I think I should go for a walk. Yes.” He scrambles for his pants, thrown to one side earlier that night, and is out of the tent before she can even protest.

Surana moves to follow him, then stops when she remembers her state of undress. She pulls her shift over her head, wincing when the movement pulls at the cut on her neck. It’s a shallow thing that has already stopped bleeding. Still, she finds a healing potion and dabs a few drops over the cut for good measure, then ducks under the tent flap.

Outside, the night is cool, the fire burned down to embers. Shale sits opposite her, on watch.

“Shale—” She starts. 

“If the little mage is looking for the painted elf, it went that way not too long ago.” They say, pointing. “It appeared most distressed.”

“Thank you.”

Surana picks her way through the underbrush slowly, careful in her steps. Her night vision is better than humans, but not enough that making her way through the dark is easy. Even distressed, Zevran is good at not leaving a trail, and Surana prays that he hasn’t gone far. Thankfully, only a few minutes pass before she spots an elven silhouette leaning against a tree, hands covering their face.

“Zevran?” She calls.

He looks up at her. “ _Cara._ You should have stayed in the tent.”

She stops a few feet away from him, arms held loosely at her sides. There were mages in the Circle whose nightmares made them run, and they never liked to be crowded when someone finally track them down. Zevran looks much the same as them, hunched in on himself, as if the tree is the only thing supporting his weight.

“I was worried about you.” She says.

Zevran snorts. “You, worried about me? You should be worried about yourself. I did hold a dagger on you, after all.” He closes the distance between them and gently brushes his fingers over the cut on her neck. “I hurt you.”

“Zevran, you had a nightmare.” Surana says. “It’s not your fault. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have touched you.”

“It is _not_ fine.” Zevran hisses, dropping his hand. “I nearly killed you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have.” He insists. “If your voice hadn’t reached me, I probably would have.” He shakes his head ruefully. “You are very reckless, _cara,_ taking an assassin into your bed.”

“I trust you. I know you would never hurt me.”

His next words are harsh. “You give your trust too easily.”

Despite herself, Surana smiles. She’s heard those words before, from both her brothers in the Circle and her friends now. She’ll probably never stop hearing them.

“Even so. I trust you, Zevran.”

There are other words she wants to say, but they are gone as soon as they enter into her mind. The feeling remains, though, and it makes her reach out and take his hand in hers. 

He doesn’t pull away.

“Come back to bed?” She asks.

Zevran shakes his head. “I don’t think there will be much more sleeping for me.”

“. . . Do you want to talk about it? Your nightmare, I mean.”

“No, no. Some things are better left unsaid.”

“Okay. . . I don’t think Shale will mind if we take watch with them.”

“You should get some rest, _cara._ ”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up in the middle of the night. I’m used to it.” He looks like he’s going to refuse, and she squeezes his hand. “Please, Zev?” _Don’t push me away._

He sighs and looks past her as if asking an unseen force for guidance. Finally, he nods.

“Alright, _cara._ It looks like neither of us are sleeping.”


End file.
